“Only one pa’tridge,” repeated David solemnly.
“Whatever will we do without eatin’?” asked Andy.
“We’ll have t’ make un do, whatever,” declared David. “They’s no other way.”
“I’m fair starved now,” said Andy. “All we had t’ eat th’ whole of yesterday was half a pa’tridge each.”
“We’ll make out with un. We’ve got tea,” cheered David. “And maybe th’ wind’ll pack th’ snow so th’ travelin’ll be better tomorrow—if th’ storm breaks. ’Tis like t’ be better from this on, anyhow, for th’ river’s wider.”
“If we eats th’ pa’tridge now,” Andy calculated, “we won’t have anything t’ eat to-night or in th’ marnin’!”
“Suppose,” David suggested, “we cooks half of un now, and just drinks th’ broth for breakfast, and keeps th’ meat for night. Then we’ll have th’ other half t’ eat in th’ marnin’ before we starts out.”
“I’m too hungry t’ be waitin’ like that,” objected Andy. “Let’s eat th’ meat now and th’ broth tonight, and keep th’ other half for marnin’!”
David’s hunger doubtless cast the deciding vote, for though reason told him the plan he had suggested was the wiser, his hunger got the better of his judgment. And they were still so hungry when the small portion had been disposed of that in the end they ate the broth as well.